


coming out of my cage

by autumnmelodies



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, lots of dumb pining, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:45:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnmelodies/pseuds/autumnmelodies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy’s a little confused about the girl on his floor who keeps walking past his open door in her underwear.</p><p>Based off the prompt: “I have been walking past your open door in just my underwear for the past two weeks for a reason.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	coming out of my cage

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am an Australian university student who still lives at home and has no idea how American colleges work, so for the sake of this story pretend I know what I’m talking about. Also this got way longer than expected, but you know, that always happens. I did a really shitty job at proofing, because it’s like 2am and I just wanted to post this, so ignore any errors. Happy reading!

Becoming an RA definitely wasn’t on Bellamy’s college to do list, but here he is, senior year, sitting in his room and pretty much regretting his life.

There are perks of the job, notably the fact that he gets his own room, which, fuck yes, because he’s had a trail of terrible roommates the past three years.

He supposes the actual job isn’t all that terrible either. He’s discovered he’s actually kind of good at leading people – well, leading as well as one can being a fucking RA. He gets paid as well, so.

But, like anything there are downfalls.

He hates freshmen. They’re horrible. He feels sorry for his own RA when he was a freshman himself, now understanding why the girl would often look distressed when a band of them wandered over to her.

Handling sick residents is probably the worst thing he’s ever experienced, and the fact that his sister smirks at him while he deals with her drunken friends is horrible.

But the absolute worst thing about being an RA is the fact that his door must be open in visiting hours, in the case that someone on his floor needs him, which, fair point, makes sense and he really can’t argue it.

And honestly, it wouldn’t be horrible if it weren’t for one minuscule detail that took form in the blonde haired girl who lives five doors down from him, because almost every fucking night at 8:55pm, just before he shuts his door she walks past in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

It kills him just about every time because, fuck, is she hot.

The first time it happened, he thought nothing of it, just college kids being college kids. The second time it happened, he was mildly surprised and ducked his head as he tried to get the image of the curve of her ass out of his mind. The third time she did it he was starting to question why the hell this had happened three times in a row.

When it kept happening, he almost quit life, because it’s totally unfair. He shouldn’t be subjected to seeing hot blondes walking past his room in little to no clothing just because he can’t fucking shut his door.

He’s pretty sure by the end of the semester he’s going to have an aneurysm.

He doesn’t know much about her, aside from the fact that she rooms with Raven Reyes, which is the most unfortunate thing in the world because he knows Raven on more than a friendly basis.

It’s through Raven that he learns that her name is Clarke Griffin – it’s a very awkward conversation and Raven gives him a pointed look that he actively ignores and just tells her to answer the question. That’s the day he decides that Clarke Griffin is going to be the bane of his existence.

It’s final, her and her perfect ass are going to kill him.

 

*

 

He’s never encountered her outside of her walking past his room, and he’s not sure that he wants to because he might end up saying something stupid, like ‘you have a really nice ass’. Probably not the best conversation starter for someone he’s never spoken to before.

So he continues being confused, and slowly dying on the inside as she keeps on fucking walking past his room in her underwear.

Surely she knows what she’s doing, and surely it can’t be for him. College students have a lot of confidence these days, right? Because that has to be it.

Raven texts him Friday morning telling him there’s a frat party that night and that he should _get your nerdy ass off historical forums and act like a fucking college student for a night_. He responds with the usual _can’t, RA shit_ but she’s having none of that and tells him to come out after he’s done.

So, he does.

And he only has slight hope that Clarke will be there.

Maybe a bit more than _slight_ hope.

The frat’s messy and crowded and he suddenly remembers why he hates frat parties, but he sees Miller and Wick standing near the kitchen so he hovers towards them. They’re standing next to a cooler, typical, so he grabs a beer and cracks it open, taking a sip immediately.

If he’s going to be here, he’s going to be drunk.

“You look pleased to be here,” Wick says with a shit-eating grin, Miller snickers under his breath and Bellamy glares at them both.

“Raven told me to come,” he replies and immediately regrets it because Wick lights up like a Christmas tree. Bellamy suppresses a groan, Miller doesn’t, and Wick glares at them both.

“She’s here?”

“I guess so?” Bellamy replies, more in question than anything, taking another sip of his drink.

“I saw her earlier with Clarke,” Miller says and Bellamy chokes. Wick whacks Miller, hard, on the shoulder and the boy grasps his arm in mock pain, eyes narrowed in Wick’s direction. “What the fuck?”

“You saw her earlier and didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to deal with this,” he mumbles and Bellamy chuckles. They both turn to look at him, Wick glaring, but Miller with an amused smirk rising on his lips. Bellamy blanches slightly, takes a sip of his drink to distract himself because he may or may not have told Miller about Clarke in several very detailed text messages.

“She’ll be around—” Miller cuts himself off, turning to face Bellamy, “and we should definitely find her because Clarke will most likely be with her.”

“Why do we care about Clarke when _Raven_ ,” Wick emphasises and both boys roll their eyes at his blatant affection.

“None of us care about Raven besides you, and Bellamy’s the one who cares about Clarke,” Miller says and Bellamy’s certain he’s going to kill him by this point.

Wick quirks an eyebrow in question and Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you. She’s the one who keeps fucking walking past my door in her underwear.”

“Oh! The one with the nice ass.” Wick grins and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that one.”

He loses both Wick and Miller not long after that, Miller finding Monty and Wick seeing Raven in the far corner. Bellamy definitely doesn’t look in Raven’s direction with the hope that Clarke’s with her.

It’s when he’s in the kitchen mixing a drink and talking to a girl in his Latin class that he sees a flash of blonde in his peripheral vision and stutters his words slightly. Echo looks at him like he’s an idiot, and he just smiles, shaking his head and continues talking, but then she sees someone behind him and leaves him with a smile and he’s stumped.

He’s desperately trying not to look to his left where he can still see blonde hair, and he’s doing pretty well, until he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and, fuck, it’s her, so he offers an easy smile and quirks an eyebrow like his heartbeat hasn’t sped up by a thousand miles in the last two seconds.

“You’re Bellamy,” she begins and he quirks an eyebrow, nodding. She grins, cocks her hip out and rests her hand on the kitchen counter, “Octavia’s brother.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, because that’s definitely not what he expected her to say, and she laughs and, oh god, her laugh.

“We do this shitty communal yoga class together in the rec centre. It’s tragic, but the instructors hot, so,” she shrugs before cringing slightly. “You definitely didn’t want to hear that.”

“Not really, no,” he chuckles, ducking his head.

“You’re also my RA…” she trails off, biting her lip and he can’t tell if it’s suggestive or nervous, so he just smiles and nods.

“And you’re—” he pauses briefly, telling himself that saying ‘you’re the girl who walks past my door in your underwear’ is probably not the best thing to say. “You’re Clarke,” is what he says instead.

She looks mildly surprised before nodding, a soft smile forming on her lips, and he might be slightly drunk, but he swears he sees the slightest bit of disappointment in her expression.

“That’s me,” she chirps, so he pushes any thoughts of her hypothetical disappointment to the back of his mind where it belongs. “Why have we never officially met before? I mean, you are my RA, and we have a lot of mutual friends,” she begins and he nods, bringing his drink to his lips, “Like, you’re close with Miller, you slept with Raven—” she says and he cuts her off by choking on his drink in a class act. She quirks an eyebrow and he clears his throat.

“How do you know that?”

She snorts slightly, looking down and there’s that look of slight disappointment he saw before and it’s definitely real this time.

“She’s my best friend, we kind of tell each other everything.”

He nods because, well yeah, that makes sense, but then cringes again, “That was like, a one-time thing. I couldn’t go there again because she’s now my friend, and my other friend Wick is halfway in love with her, so,” he says and he’s really not sure why because he doesn’t need to explain himself to her, but he feels the need to.

She nods with a small, amused smile and he ducks his head.

“She’s halfway in love with Wick as well, even if she won’t admit it out loud,” she says with a shrug, and he grins because Clarke Griffin is the kind of girl he could be good friends with.

But then he reminds himself he knows what she looks like in her fucking underwear and, yeah, he’s never going to be able to be just friends with her.

 

*

 

It’s weird after that; she suddenly becomes a frequent person in his life and not even on his own doing.

He sees her around campus, textbooks stacked in her arms and headphones on; she smiles, he waves and that’s that.

He sees her in O’s dorm, the two of them lounging in yoga wear and talking about the supposed hot instructor – it’s something he doesn’t want to hear, but he forgets that because Clarke’s in yoga pants and he has no thought process after that.

He sees her with Raven, the two of them lounging on the grass and she asks if he wants to join them, but Raven says he’s probably too busy being a fucking nerd. He rolls his eyes and tells them he’s on his way to a class he TA’s for.

“Told you he’s a nerd,” Raven scoffs and Bellamy rolls his eyes, but then he looks at Clarke who’s smiling down into her lap and his heart flips a little.

He sees her everywhere, but worst of all she still walks past his room at the same time every night in her underwear and t-shirt, not even batting an eyelid or turning to look at him.

It’s becoming very hard for him to not bring it up to her whenever he sees her, because when he does see her he acts normal but his mind screams _why are you still walking past my room half-naked you can’t not know what you’re doing to me_.

But, he keeps his mouth shut and pretends like everything’s normal and definitely does not jerk off to the thought of her once his door’s shut for the night.

 

*

 

He sees her in the library one afternoon, pens sticking out from her ponytail and wearing fucking yoga pants. He curses under his breath and in a moment of haze he trips over his own goddamn feet. Obviously, he makes noise because Clarke’s looking up at him suddenly, confused before she starts giggling silently.

He rolls his eyes and walks over to her table, motioning to the spare seat. She nods at him and he sets his books down and slides into the seat.

“You okay?” She asks in a whisper, seemingly concerned, but she’s smiling at the same time and he can’t help the playful glare that forms on his face. She giggles softly at that, eyes turning down to her books.

“Fine,” he mumbles, opening his textbook and notebook.

He’s kind of glad they’re both sitting down because this way he’s not subjected to actually looking at her in yoga pants, but thinking about it is bad enough. He mentally scolds himself for it because he’s being a fucking _dude_ about a hot girl wearing yoga pants and he kind of hates himself.

But this is Clarke, and he’s willing to admit he may have a crush on her, and not just because she’s attractive.

He likes her laugh, and he likes seeing her smile. She’s a good friend to O, and Raven, and anyone really, and he gets along with her well. She could talk his ear off about art history, and that part kind of kills him on the inside because anyone knows the way to his heart if through history – though she doesn’t seem to realise that. She’s killer at beer pong, and somehow still manages to look after everyone in their drunken state even if she’s drunk herself.

He likes her for all the reasons he’d like anyone else, and it pretty much sucks because he feels like they’re too deep in friendship by now for him to say anything.

So he smiles at her and she smiles back, ducking her head down to her work again, a look of concentration etching across her face and, yeah, he’s pretty much fucked.

 

*

 

He’s taken to turning away from his door to face his desk at around the time Clarke usually walks by at night. But that still doesn’t seem to stop him from looking over his shoulder every five minutes – he’s never actually seen her walk past since he’s started doing this, so it makes him believe she’s stopped.

He almost forgets about it, and simply revels in the friendship they have, until one night he’s coming back very late from class, tired and rubbing at his eyes when he runs smack bang into someone.

And of course, by his luck, it’s Clarke. In a t-shirt and her underwear.

She looks shocked when she looks up at him, her mouth moving, but no words coming out. His mouth gapes and he suddenly registers that his hands are resting on her waist and he stills for a moment in shock, then removes his hands and takes a step back. He brings a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, which is a bad idea because he’s now in full vision of her legs, so he snaps his gaze back up to her face.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and she’s suddenly shaken out of her reverie it seems, a smirk falling on her lips, and she innocently shrugs.

“Not your fault,” is all she says before offering him a friendly enough smile and stepping around him cautiously, slowly it almost seems, and walking towards her dorm.

Bellamy stands in the middle of the hall, furrowing his eyebrows, his gaze on nothing in particular in front of him and all he can think is _what the fuck_. Because that was the perfect opportunity to say something, yet he did absolutely nothing.

He turns around just in time to see her hovering at her door, biting her lip – she widens her eyes once she registers him looking and smiles before hastily slipping into his room, and again, what the fuck.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath and tilts his head back, eyes closing briefly. He’s twenty-two years old and he’s acting like a stumbling fourteen-year-old around the girl he likes, and really, this shouldn’t be hard because he’s used to girls and college, he’s only been doing it for the past four fucking years.

Shaking his head, he turns on his heel and slinks into his room, shutting the door behind himself not even caring what time it is.

He needs a cold shower, stat.

 

*

 

Wick drags him to an off-campus party because Raven’s the one who told him it was on, and Wick’s obviously never going to say no to anything Raven says, and apparently he needs a wingman – though Bellamy’s not sure what for.

“I need you to talk me up to her, obviously.”

“She already thinks you’re an idiot, how can you come back from that.”

He, in turn, drags Miller along, who drags Monty, who drags Jasper – though it’s not hard to convince Jasper to come, apparently – and they all show up together.

Raven sees them immediately, and she’s with Octavia, which eases Bellamy’s heart rate because he doesn’t need to worry about seeing her with some guy, but also scares him at the same time because, fuck, if Raven starts rubbing off on his sister he’s not sure how he’ll deal.

“You look like the Backstreet Boys,” she comments with a smirk as she approaches them. Octavia didn’t follow her and Bellamy narrows his eyes, looking around to see where she is, and then sees her with a big looking guy and narrows his eyes further, but Raven punches him in the arm and he looks back at her.

“It’s only Lincoln, he couldn’t hurt a fly. He teaches fucking yoga, for god sake,” she says and Bellamy puts two and two together and realises this is the guy O and Clarke must’ve been talking about.

He nods, pushing that thought to the back of his mind, for he knows better to interrogate his sister when they’re in public, or when he’s been drinking. Instead, he turns to Raven and smiles in a proper greeting, opening his mouth to voice that, but she cuts him off.

“She’s in the kitchen,” she says and Bellamy quirks an eyebrow. Raven rolls her eyes, “Clarke.”

 _Oh_. Narrowing his eyes at her, he then shakes his head because, come on, he’s not that pathetic – well, okay, he might be.

“I didn’t ask, did I?”

“You were about to.”

“I was going to say hello, but sure,” he smirks and Raven rolls her eyes.

“You would’ve asked eventually,” she says before turning to Wick with a softer smile than he’s ever seen on Raven Reyes and files that away for a later date so he can make fun of her.

Turning to his side, he notes that Miller and Monty are chatting to themselves and Jasper is looking in the general direction of the staircase at something, or someone – Bellamy can’t tell. So he clasps a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and instead ventures towards the kitchen, or where he hopes is the kitchen.

He finds Clarke perched on the bench talking to a girl animatedly, using her hands and all. She’s dressed simple, but it’s enough to make him want to grab her and push her up against a wall, but that’s another thought to file in the back of his mind.

He walks further into the kitchen, grabbing a cup and filling it up from the keg and when he turns Clarke notices him. He’s not saying her face lights up, but it damn well looks like it and it sends an odd shiver down his spine and, what the fuck.

“Hey,” she chimes as he walks towards her. She waves a goodbye to the girl she was talking to and grins when he stops beside her, leaning on the bench.

“Hey, yourself,” he responds, smiling easily. “What’s up?”

She giggles at his question which is fair enough because it’s an awkward question, but he turns into an idiot around her he’s discovered, so, sue him.

“Nothing really, I was going to try find Raven and see if she wanted to team up in beer pong and destroy some frat bros,” she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Raven’s with Wick and she actually smiled at him like a normal human being, so…” he trails off and Clarke beams.

“Really? That’s awesome,” she grins and then drops her mouth in what appears to be an excited gasp. “We should find them, verse them, you and me.”

And that’s how they end up versing Wick and Raven in beer pong. Three rounds later, Bellamy’s discovered that Clarke is a very good teammate to have and that Raven and Wick are shocking at beer pong. They’re not bad as a team, but Bellamy’s sure Wick keeps missing throws because Raven’s standing in close proximity to him.

At least Bellamy can keep his chill somewhat around the girl he likes.

Wick and Raven admit defeat and scuttle away. Clarke grins up at him and throws her arms in the air and he chuckles.

“We’re the champions of beer pong,” she slurs, giggles and trips into him all in the matter of a second and he steadies her, hands on her waist, smiling down at her. He’s got a stronger tolerance for alcohol than her, obviously, but he is still buzzed, so he doesn’t move his grip from her waist, instead presses his fingers further into her skin.

She smirks at him and leans up to whisper in his ear, “Dance with me?”

Her voice is slightly stuttered and her eyes are wide, and he’s pretty certain it’s the alcohol that’s causing her ‘fuck me’ eyes, but he really wants to believe it’s actually her in her right mind doing it.

He agrees to dance with her, anyway, which turns out to be a horrible idea because she’s pressed right up against him hot and heavy and moving consistently to the beat of the music.

He’s glad for the loud music, because he groans maybe once or twice when she presses herself up against him fully. Then she turns around so her back is to his front and fucking _grinds_. His hands land on her hips naturally, pulling her closer to him and he hears a little gasp escape her lips. It’s then that he decides maybe she’s been walking past his room half-dressed for a reason.

Though he doesn’t get to find out, because Raven’s rushing towards them with stating that Jasper’s throwing up in the bathroom and, moment over, because Clarke goes into full doctor mode, despite her own drunkenness.

He really fucking likes this girl.

 

*

 

The next time he sees Clarke, he’d expected it to be weird, but she smiles at him like everything’s normal and okay and he rolls with it. She doesn’t bring up their dance at the party, and he’s a little disappointed, but he can live with the thought that she only wants him when she’s drunk.

But then something changes, and it fucks with his mind.

She hovers closer to him when they talk, smiling up at him from under her eyelashes. Touches his arm, lingering, before slowly dragging her fingertips away. Leans over him when she’s wearing low-cut tops, seemingly careless about the possibility of him seeing down her shirt – which he does and, fuck his life basically.

It’s blatant flirting by touching, but she’s not saying anything and it’s really fucking annoying, so it’s only a matter of time before he snaps, really.

It’s been a pretty easy day for him, only a few freshmen bugging him, when he sees her walk past his room, yet again, in her underwear and this time a fucking tank top. Really, he should’ve thought by now it was just a normal thing for her, but it’s the same time every day and he doesn’t know if he can stand another day seeing it, so he pushes up from his chair, determined, and walks after her.

She’s barely made it two doors down when he grabs her waist and turns her, pushing her into the wall, his hands resting above her shoulders to cage her in. She squeaks slightly, shocked, but then she looks up at him and smirks— _fucking smirks_.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he mutters through his teeth, because really, he’s thinking through his dick at the moment – he’s pressed up against her, who could blame him?

“What are you talking about?” she asks innocently, and he might believe her if she wasn’t still smirking. He narrows his eyes and she giggles.

“ _This_ ,” he groans out, looking down at her half-covered body. “I cannot count the number of times you’ve walked past my dorm half-naked on one hand—not even on _two hands_.”

“Your point?” She quirks an eyebrow daringly and, really, she has to be playing with him now, because next thing she does is bite her lower lip and stand taller, like she’s not afraid of this conversation at all.

“Why—” he swallows, “are you doing it?”

Clarke shakes her head at him, incredulous. She groans and drops her head against the wall, mumbling “fucking unbelievable,” before looking back at him. “I’ve been doing it for a reason, idiot.”

“Care to inform me of what that reason is?” he questions, swallowing away any nerve. He’s pretty sure he knows what the answer is by now, but he wants to hear it from her lips.

She bites her lip, suddenly looking nervous and he backs off a little—but she grabs his forearms and pulls him back in and he’s pleasantly surprised, but doesn’t question it. He likes being close to her. So, despite his slight nervousness and completely obvious turned on state at this encounter, he lets her pull him closer.

“I like you,” she says slowly, carefully and he can’t help but grin. “I mean—the first few times I did it, it was because I thought you were hot, but more recently, it’s been because I actually like you, and you kind of suck when it comes to making a move, so.”

He drops his head to her shoulder, body humming with soft laughter before looking back up at her. She’s staring at him with the same fuck me eyes she had at the party, and he’s suddenly very aware of her less than dressed state. She’s pressed up against him in all the right places, and he can tell from the way her nipples pebble under her shirt that she’s not wearing a bra, so basically, fuck him.

“I wasn’t sure if you were doing it on purpose, or whether it was because it was a normal thing you’d do—you have confidence, so,” he shrugs and she rolls her eyes.

“There’s like, no one in the hall at this time of night,” she remarks. He glances around the deserted hall and then back to Clarke who’s smirking up at him.

“Shut up,” he mutters before leaning in and finally – _finally_ – pressing his lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms moving up to lock around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

It’s fast and hot and everything Bellamy’s ever thought about plus more, which he almost thinks is impossible considering he’s thought about this a lot, but he’s pleasantly surprised. The noises she’s making send a wave of heat straight down to his cock and he groans against her lips, detaching them, trailing a line of kisses down her neck.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” she breathes out, canting her hips towards his. “There is a slight possibility someone could come out and find us.”

He smirks against her neck, teeth grazing the skin to which she delightfully gasps at. He looks back up at her and quirks a teasing eyebrow, “What are you trying to insinuate, Clarke?”

She rolls her eyes and drags his lips down to hers, but only so they hover against each other, “I’m saying, you should definitely make use of your lack of a roommate right now.”

He’d be a fucking idiot if he didn’t, really.

“Fuck,” he whispers and pulls himself away from her, grasping her hand and leading her towards his room.

He slams his door shut once they’re inside and pushes her up against his, his hands immediately moving to rest on her hips under her shirt.

“Do you know,” he mumbles against her skin, pushing the shirt up inch by inch, “how many times I’ve imagined this?”

She gasps into his mouth, and he feels pretty damn proud because he’s the one who caused that. “Is the answer a lot, because it’s the same for me. Now, _shut up_ ,” she grumbles and, gladly.

He breaks away only momentarily to pull her shirt up over her head, and his idea was to kiss her again, but now she’s shirtless and her boobs are right there and he’s pretty much a dead man gone to heaven. He curses under his breath and she giggles, leaning back against the door looking shy but sultry all at once, which he doesn’t quite get but is not going to question because it’s a good look.

He doesn’t need to decide what to do because she pulls him closer again and tugs his own shirt over his head, and they’re straight back at it. His lips find hers, his hands ghost up her hips before hovering over her breasts, his fingers flicking over the pebbled nipples. She groans into his mouth, and he begins a trail of kisses down her cheek, jaw, neck until he reaches the swell of her breast and sucks hard, hoping it leaves a bruise. Clarke gasps and digs her dainty fingers into his hips, and he trails lower, his tongue flattening out over her nipple before sucking.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, gripping his hips tighter, causing him to grind into her. She laughs through stuttered breath and moves her hands to undo the tie of his sweatpants, impatiently trying to push them down.

She gets them down eventually, alongside his briefs and grasps him hot and hard and he swears against the swell of her breast. He looks up at her, desire in his eyes and he almost dies when he sees the same amount in her own eyes, biting her lip as her hand pumps his length.

She’s awfully good at this and he’s pretty much in heaven, so he grasps her hand, stilling her movements and laughs breathlessly. “If you keep up at that, this’ll be over soon,” he begins, biting his lips. “Unless that’s all you’re wanting to do for now, in which case, continue,” he adds as a safe measure, but she quirks and eyebrow and removes her hand and, thank-god.

He kisses her again, his hands finding her hips as he peels her from the door and walks her backwards towards his bed. She falls down onto the mattress and Clarke Griffin, naked on his bed, is a sight he could get used to.

He smirks at her and leans to hover over her, kissing her sweetly before trailing kisses down her body. His hands tug at her panties, dragging them down her legs, then kissing a line up her right thigh, his hand trailing up the other.

He hears her breathing pick up, and when he reaches her centre, slick with evident arousal he glances up to see her sitting on her elbows, looking directly at him. It’s a fucking turn on, so when he lowers his mouth to her, his eyes never leave hers.

His fingers spread her folds apart and he licks a line up her centre and the moan that escapes her lips only eggs him on. His lips close over her clit, sucking, and his fingers find her folds, pushing one, two fingers in gently, before moving them.

She’s a whimpering mess above him, and once or twice her hips buck upward, so on the third time he snakes his arm around to hold her down. Her hands come to rest in his hair and, fuck, he’s done for – he pumps his fingers faster, his tongue flattens against her and she tries to cant her hips up as she nears the edge.

“Bell,” she moans when she comes, and he slows his movements down until she’s pushing at his head, mumbling “too much,” and he pulls away.

He’s grinning when he moves up to hover over her and she rolls her eyes, smacks his chest and flips them so she’s straddling him.

“Condom?” She says, blatant, to the point and he moves slightly to grab one out of his bedside draw.

She slips it on him and suddenly she’s hovering over him, eyes on him before she sinks down and their collective groans resonate throughout the room. She rides him messy and sloppy, but it’s the best fucking thing in the world because it’s _Clarke_ —and he has a pretty awesome view of her breasts.

 “I’m—” she cuts herself off, arching her back. “Oh, god, almost there, _fuck_.”

He’s pretty damn close himself, and when she leans down to connect their lips he’s pretty much done for, so he slides a hand between them to rub at her clit and she groans against his lips.

“Come on, Clarke,” he mumbles, his hips bucking up into hers as he nears the edge.

She moans into his lips, a smile he can feel as she comes for the second time—she pulls away slightly, eyes on him as she continues to ride him and the sight of her on top of him, eyes sultry and whimpering from her orgasm sets him off, bucking into her hips as he comes.

She falls into bed beside him after a few moments, heavy breathing filling the room, then, laughter.

Bellamy turns to look at her—she’s smiling up at him, trying to stop herself from laughing, but obviously can’t, for she buries her face in his shoulder, her body vibrating. He chuckles at her laughter, and pulls her closer, planting a kiss to the crown of her head.

At some point, they fall asleep, because the next thing they know, it’s bright and obviously morning and there’s banging on his door.

“Bellamy, open the fucking door!” a voice screams, and Bellamy immediately picks it to be Raven’s. He groans and peels himself away from Clarke, which is a feat considering she paws at his chest, mumbling for him to stay.

He grabs his sweats and pulls them on before opening the door, angry, “What?”

Raven quirks an eyebrow at his state and folds her arms across her chest. “You don’t know where Clarke is, do you?”

He debates telling her, but he doesn’t want to give her any satisfaction, so he shrugs instead.

“Really?” She drawls, unamused, “because you have sex hair and Clarke didn’t come home last night after her nightly ‘walk past Bellamy’s door half naked and hope he does something’ ritual.”

He smirks at that, and Clarke gasps loudly in the background. Raven cackles, tossing her head back before smirking at him. “Nice work, you successfully took months to realise she was interested in you, new fucking record,” she says before walking away.

“Could say the same about you and Wick!” he yells after her, and she waves a hand at him, disappearing into her dorm.

He shuts his door with a chuckle and leans against it, staring at Clarke who’s now sitting up in his bed, sheet pulled across her chest, which is a sight he really enjoys seeing, and wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more. She smiles shyly, and he shakes his head because this is the same girl who fucked him relentless last night.

 He falls back into bed, and grins at her.

“Breakfast?” he questions and she laughs, leaning down to peck his lips, and he thinks, yeah, this is definitely something he could get used to.

 


End file.
